Confession

Forgive me, for I have (sorta) sinned. The bunker is no longer pure.

Today, in a moment of weakness, unable to turn away from the temptations flaunted by board members who would tease all with reported joys of Rye, did I, sorry soul, imbibe in spirits not Bourbon. Sazerac 19 and Van Winkle Family Reserve 13 have touched my lips, have sullied my bunker. Far worse, I confess to having savored and relished these illicit pleasures.